Four Hundred Degrees
by LeakySneakyOprichniki
Summary: "Cid develops an unusual fixation with a knickknack he brings home from Wutai." Something a little different from what I usually write. Rated M for brief adult content.


**I have this little issue, where I'll have several ideas rattling around in my head at once, and it actually prevents me from being able to wind down and sleep. This has been bothering me for the past week, so I'm going to sit down and write it out. I normally make drafts of several instances, and piece them together, but this is a special case. It puts me one chapter behind for Gibbous, but I've got to stay sane, ahahaha. I have tons of ideas for artwork too, but writing tends to affect me differently. **

**Okay, let me stop procrastinating. Here we go.**

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><p>I.<p>

Cid could see its crisp outline in the protective plastic of his goggles. He was so mindlessly fixated on the object in the warped reflection that he almost didn't hear Yuffie call him a "Dirty geezer!"

"Fucking brat!" He snatched the brown leather from the smelly slab of brimstone he had been seated on. Cid had a mind to tear after her. Grunting, the band of his goggles snapped in place against the back of his head; missing the box of cigarettes underneath because he knew better than to tempt himself on a ridge full of sulfur.

"Hurry up, old man!" Yuffie's voice was farther away. It was a hallow echo under the stiff curve of the lower face of a Wutainese mountain.

"I'm comin'! Don't fuckin' rush me!" Cid only took a few steps forward before pausing. His brows scrunched in brief confusion. Was he forgetting something? Goggles? Yeah. Spear? Yeah. Gloves? In his pocket. Dog tag? Around his neck as usual. What the hell was it then?!

Part of him said to move on, and the other part told him to wait. Cid slowly peered back over his shoulder. Whatever he had been looking at in the reflection of his goggles was still there.

II.

Cid had totally forgotten he brought it home. Which was odd. It was a pain to carry around with him while he traveled with the rest of the group. It fit in absolutely none of his pockets, and it was _heavy _as hell. On top of that, well, he just looked plain odd lugging it around under his arm.

When he finally arrived back in Rocket Town after the group venture, he stuck it down near the front door. Made a pretty good stopper. Damn good door stopper…until he kept getting irritating urges to relocate it. It just…didn't belong there. No explanation to why, just a really weird gut feeling.

The first time he moved it, was when he remembered it existed. The second time he moved it, Shera complained about tripping over it on her way to the engineering room. Grumbling of course, he moved it one more (but not the last) time. Something told him to place it up on a shelf nearest to the water heater, so he did.

III.

Originally, Shera didn't think too much of her husband's souvenir. She didn't actually notice it until several weeks after he came home. She remembered that he placed it on the mat, where they usually kept their boots. It seemed like a waste. With the warm colors and earthy texture that covered the surface, the oversized keepsake probably would have worked better as a lovely decorative piece than a door prop.

"Did you…why is it there?" That wasn't the question she was originally going to ask him. While her mind was on it, she noticed the Captain's current fixation was no longer in the garage where it had been for the past few days. It was on a side table in the living room under her favorite lamp.

"Wha?" Cid tore his attention from the TV.

"Why did you move it?" She sat up in his lap and motioned to the object with the wary tilt of her head.

Cid shrugged his shoulders. No clue.

IV.

She bit the edge of her lip and arched her back; pressing her flushed body against his. A deep purr in Cid's chest traveled from there, to his mouth, and to her neck when he sank his teeth into the skin of her shoulder. She had two handfuls of his backside, thighs clamped around the steady tempo of his waist, and her head lolled back into a headboard pillow. Shera's vision was blurred as she gazed up toward the rafters of the bedroom ceiling, but she saw it.

_Oh, my god._

Perched way up high was exactly what she thought it was.

V.

It was probably nothing. Just a quirky habit she was starting to discover about Cid. (she really hoped). Things were getting, uh, strange. It seemed every day now, _it _was in a different place in the house. When she sat, she found it under living room blankets. When she went outside, Shera discovered it positioned out in the sun. When she went to use the bathroom of all places, it was up on a cabinet next to the heating vent. What in the world was with Cid and this thing?!

Shera had preheated the oven for the evening; intending to allow something to bake for dinner. She only left to wash her hands for just a moment. She came back, pulled open the oven door, and poised herself to slide a full pan onto a rack. Only, to find that the rack was preoccupied.

Um.

"Captain? Can… I ask you something?" Against being totally and completely confused, Shera didn't move the damn thing. She placed the pan on the rack below, and dealt with dinner taking a little longer to cook.

"Shoot." Cid replied before casually stuffing his mouth.

"You do know…that there's a rock in the oven…"

"Er…yeah, I know." He subconsciously stuck it there after all. To be frank. Cid could tell when he was weirding Shera out. He sorta disturbed himself.

"…why?"

Cid stopped eating for a moment. His blue eyes were heavily squinted from trying to produce an answer. Something seemed to click, though. There was a spark in his expression; a realization maybe.

"Ain't nothin' else hot enough." And four hundred degrees probably wasn't going to cut it either.

"Hot enough?" It was Shera's turn to squint. She tilted her head and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Why in the world, would he have the involuntary compulsion to keep some dumb old rock hot?

"I see you givin' me that look. I ain't goin' crazy, babe." He didn't say that with much confidence.

VI.

Cid had been unable to sleep and found himself loitering the kitchen in the quiet of night. He lit a cigarette at the table, and of course, became fixated with the rock sitting up on the stove top. The dark mass taunted and beckoned him up from his seat. Cid deeply wondered what his problem was. Why couldn't he leave it alone? Were they adding some trippy shit in cigarettes now?

Irritated with himself, Cid smothered his half consumed stick and left it in a tray. Unable to resist, he came to the rock and lifted it in his hands. The surface still hadn't fully cooled from sitting in the oven all day. He turned it a few times; keen eyes examining the slurry of warm colors infused in the black shell. It reminded him of something. Cid got another unexplainable urge.

VII.

The dense stench of burning dragged Shera right out of her sleep. She was terrified the house had caught fire in the middle of the night. When she came to an abrupt stop at the foot of the stairs, she didn't know what to think.

Cid lit the hearth in the middle of Summer. If Shera didn't think he was crazy last night, she was probably going to think it now.

VIII.

Shera had placed herself on the couch for the rest of the night and watched him. Cid didn't do much, despite her concern. All he did was place the rock at the center of the fire, and watch it. That's all he'd been doing since he brought it home.

Shera would have preferred to remain awake, but all it took was for her to close her eyes once, and she fell asleep. When Shera opened them again, the crackle of fire had died down to nothing but pulsing ashes. She shook the grog from her shoulders and fanned the sweat that had settled in the heat of her joints. The house was sweltering. "Cid?" She called for him.

"Right here! Be careful." Shera couldn't see where he was, but there was an odd edge to his voice that told her something important had happened. She moved so morning light wouldn't flood her eyes, and groped the couch cushions for her glasses. Her legs swung out to the hardwood, and she timidly stood with eyes fixed on the floor. It was covered in black, glinting shards.

Did he smash it? She wondered; thinking Cid had finally had enough of the thing driving him crazy. Shera sighed and bent down to pick some of the rock fragments up. One by one, she collected them, having yet to locate where Cid had gone.

"You comin'?!" His voice told her he wanted her to hurry. Cid's question came from upstairs in the bathroom.

"I-I'm coming!" Shera answered. She frowned at the uncomfortable sensation coating her palms and finger tips; not realizing that they were sticky. She pulled some of the shards apart and took a more focused look. Each piece was covering in a thin, gooey, translucent goop.

IX.

"Hey, yer' gonna spook it if you come in here screamin'!" Cid hushed Shera; slapping his hand over her mouth before she could shriek. When he pulled his yolk covered hand from her lips she made the most _disgusted_, most amusing expression he'd seen to date. His face held the broadest grin on the planet.

"_Cid, what_ is_ that?!"_ Her husband was washing something big, scaly, and fidgeting with scalding hot water in the bathtub. It made an other-worldly noise that was probably synonymous with the whine of an infant.

"Guess."


End file.
